


I love the way that you end up in my arms at night

by lonely_lowri



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Established Relationship, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Insomnia, M/M, Non-Binary Martin, Other, Pets, Post-Apocalypse, Post-Canon, Sleepy Cuddles, They/Them Pronouns for Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, also featuring their service dog mothman and their cat sasha, gender up in this bitch, like how coffee barely wakes me up, non-binary jon, that ones very minor but it is there, they're both enby fuck yeah, they're not stated to be adhd but i did include some adhd shit i do
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 11:01:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28955385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lonely_lowri/pseuds/lonely_lowri
Summary: Jons insomnia can only really be defeated by; the need to love and care for their Joyfriend
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 1
Kudos: 45





	I love the way that you end up in my arms at night

**Author's Note:**

> Jon goes by they/them and Martin goes by he/they by the way!
> 
> I'll be honest I wrote this cause I was soft and yearning for my bf. Its 4 am lets go woo

Jon only seemed to process that they had poured coffee at all once it had gone cold in their hands.

This is why they had needed coffee.

They set the ceramic mug on the counter and stared at it for a moment, before running their hands over their face and sighing. They stood there, eyes closed and breath heavy. It takes 10 minutes for the coffee pot to fill. As far as they could tell, they only had blurry recollections of what  _ might _ have happened over the last two and a half hours. They knew their work was done, some of it at least. They pushed their hair up out of their face and glanced at the microwave on the other side of the counter.

05:23. Okay.

When had it gotten just so late? Well, early, but they didn’t want to think about that. They tapped the rim of the mug, and opened the microwave, setting the mug inside. If they just stopped it at 1 second the all-too-loud and all-too-long beep of the old worn down microwave wouldn’t wake up Martin. They started the timer and leaned on the counter, resting their chin in their hands.

They stared at the numbers slowly ticking down, and listened to the muted buzz of the heat, feeling themself get more tired, more unfocused by the second.

Against their better judgement they closed their eyes. They listened to the humming from the microwave, the ticking of the clock in the living room, the faint noises of late nights and early morning outside, the throbbing in their own head from spending so much time staring at a computer screen. All the noises started to blur together a bit, and they felt themself trying to weakly fight off the sleep that crawled closer from the corners of their mind.

This is, until, what could very well be a ridiculously large warm teddy bear sleepily groaned and slumped against their back, resting his arms on the back of their neck and trying to push some of his weight onto the cabinet, as not to break Jon like a twig. Jon huffed out a small laugh and crossed their arms on the counter, leaning down more and Martins warmth coming with. Martin lifted their head up and pressed a sleepy kiss to the back of Jons graying hair, mumbling something that could have been a “good morning”.

The two of them stayed like this, practically laying against the countertop, until the microwave started blaring an awful sound and Martin let out a groggy whine, instinctively thrusting out their hand to try and find the ‘STOP’ button. He eventually found it when he bothered to look up, and opened the microwave.

“What’re you heating up?”

“Ah. um… coffee.”

Martin checked the time on the microwave clock.

“....Right.”

Jon grabbed their steaming mug and set it down, as Martin closed the microwave and crossed his arms around Jons chest to hold them.

“This is only acceptable based on how much you’ve slept tonight.” Jon paused from blowing on their coffee, watching the liquid swirl around in a mesmerizing motion. Yeah, maybe they should have seen that coming. “I’m just saying,” he continued. “Your side of the bed is still cold.”

“Is it now?” they challenged.

“.....Well,  _ no _ \- but that’s only because Mothmans been there.”

They gave a quiet dramatic gasp. “Cheating on me, now are we?” and Martin snorted.

“A dog is  _ hardly _ a good replacement for you.”

“Mmmh. A cryptid is, though.”

“You  _ are _ my cryptid.” He pressed another kiss to the back of Jons head, but this time to the bare skin on their neck. They hummed contentedly and sipped their mug, feeling the small bit of energy run through them. Martin curled into their back further, twitching a bit and catching their breath every time Jon was starting to think he may have dozed off.

“I’m sorry if I woke you.”

“Oh- no, you’re fine, I’ve uh… been awake for a bit anyway.” He shifted.

“Yeah?” The unspoken  _ Are you okay? _ hung in their tone and Martin inhaled shakily. They wondered if it would have been easier for him if they just directly asked the simple yes or no question, and felt like cursing themself for it. They reached up and rubbed their thumb over the back of Martins hand, scarred tissue over soft skin.

“Y… Yeah. Just y’know… the usual. That’s uhm…. act-actually why Mothman was there. She- she heard me.”

“I’m sorry.” Jon lifted his hand and kissed their knuckles. “I should have heard you.” From the slightly defeated noise they made in response, it was obvious that they didn’t have the energy to argue with them.

How scared must Martin have been? If he’d dreamt about the fog and the quiet emptiness surrounding them, choking them and blocking out everything and the panic and desperation and woken up only to find Jon wasn’t there when he reached out and where would they have gone besides- god. They stared at their half empty mug. Maybe it had been selfish and dumb to decide to stay up that late. Why did they think it would have been a good idea to leave Martin alone all night?

Jon realized that the weight of the chest on their back was rising and falling in a familiar pattern, and before they knew it they were following Martins breathing exercise, calming them down. They were here, and Martin was here, and they were okay. They thought about why Martin was getting anxious, how they wanted to sooth his fears and promise him that everything was okay. And they thought about how perhaps Martin wanted to do the same for them.

Martin shifted, sighing and untangling his arms from Jon, pulling away to lean against the counter next to them. He rubbed a hand over his eye. “You can have your mobility back now.” They mumbled, smiling a bit.

“I didn’t mind not having it,” Jon whispered, smiling right back.

Martin nodded to the mug in Jons hands. “How effective actually is that on you?” He furrowed his eyebrows and shifted his mouth. The sentence didn’t quite sound right, but they couldn’t think of any other way to phrase it.

Jon looked back down at the brightly colored mug, decorated in dozens of small varying plants and leaves. They ran their thumb over it, feeling the small bumps in the ceramic where the painted on plants were given depth. It was a mug with only a feel for certain times, and they realized they had never drank it with anything but warm tea on anything but a sunny day. It seemed so out of place here.

“...I’d give it two minutes before I’m just as tired again.” They gave a weary smile and took one last sip before setting it down for the night. Coffee had never kept them awake for long anyway, and the only thing that ever really seemed to help them focus was Martins tea. Or maybe it was just Martin.

“In that case,” He glanced at the microwave clock again. Almost 6 now. “would you like to finally join me in sleeping through however much of the night time is left?” They held out their hand to Jon, like a prince asking for a dance at a ball. Stark white hair clashed against their dark freckled skin and was tousled from rolling in their sleep, his eyes still a bit bleary. He was wearing a tacky t-shirt that announced “WEED EATER” with several photos of mushrooms below it, and they knew he probably couldn’t see well without his glasses on. Jon found it all very endearing.

They bowed slightly back and took Martins hand, accepting their offer. They both laughed a bit as they stumbled back to the bedroom, hand in hand.

The bastard cat known as Sasha had curled up against Mothman, and neither of the thieves seemed to have any intention of moving from Jons spot. They climbed over the two to the now much smaller side of the bed where Martin had already sat, holding up their hand as he yawned. Jon clumsily fell onto the blankets and pillows resting there, and lay very close to Martin. Before he could pull himself under the covers, Jon reached out and gently touched the thin, straight scars on his thigh below their shorts, contemplating them for the who knows how manyth time. Martin looked down at them for a moment, before taking their hand in his and lying beneath the covers, holding Jon close to their chest, soft lips pressed to their forehead. Jon curled into their warmth, letting themself accept the comfort.

“I worry about you, you know.” Jon whispered in the dark.

“Yeah? Well same hat.” He mumbled back in a very serious tone, extracting a small laugh from Jon. “Will you please try to go to bed at like, at least a vaguely reasonable time tomorrow? Like,  _ anything _ before 6 am will do.” They nodded against his chest, and he shifted his head down. “Thank you.”

After a couple of minutes of silence as Jon felt the small bit of energy left drain and it would be a fight to open their eyes again, they whispered to Martin.

“hmmnh?” Was the only reply they got back.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” His smile was audible, even when so quiet, even when they were too tired to speak.

And the same day at noon, Jon rested in a chair, leaning onto the counter and scratching Sasha in their lap and Mothman at their feet, while Martin rinsed out a cold cup of coffee and filled a brightly colored flowery mug with sweet peppermint tea.

**Author's Note:**

> Yep im soft goodnight
> 
> and for anyone wondering- Sasha is a calico with three legs and Mothman is a spaniel :D


End file.
